


Fruit of the Vine and Work of Human Hands

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post Bartlett Administration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-07
Updated: 2009-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-15 22:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14798873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: "Blessed are you, Lord God of all creation. Through your goodness we have this wine to offer. Fruit of the vine and work of human hands, it will become our spiritual drink."Offertory prayer over the wine;General Instruction of the Roman Missal





	Fruit of the Vine and Work of Human Hands

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  
Author's notes: This is another case of one of my secondary characters wanting me to tell their story -- in this case, one of CJ's brothers and his wife. I've set it in the \"Fold in Gently\" universe because Paul is a better fit than Danny, but it is independent of either story, at least for now.

 

Spoilers through end of series

 

Not mine, never were, never will be, but they consume my soul

 

Feedback and criticism always welcomed  


* * *

**Early morning, indeterminate date, mid-May, maybe 2020; St. Helena, CA**

“I’m fine, or as fine as I can be, considering. I just need to be by myself for a while, and besides, there’s one last thing I need to do before-”.

With that unfinished thought, Randolph Cregg walked out of his house.

He could hear, but did not care about, his sons and his daughters-in-law, protesting (“But Dad-”. “You shouldn’t be alone.” “Let me go with you.” “Go after him, Rich, follow him.” "Someone needs to be with him, especially after yesterday".) He could hear, and was grateful for, the supportive words of his brother-in-law (“Let him go. He'll be fine. He needs to do what he needs to do.”)

Thank God for Paul. He had been as much comfort as the parish priest. In fact, he had been more comfort; not only was Paul a man of God, he was also a widower (or had been until he had married Randy’s sister) who understood exactly what Randy was feeling.

As he walked toward the stable, Randy reflected on what Paul had told him repeatedly over the last few days.

“There is no correct or incorrect way to grieve. Yes, you are being self-centered, even selfish, but you have that right. You have lost your spouse. You will never again see, hold, make love with, fight with, the woman who means more to you than anyone else in the world until you too join her in death. It’s a crushing event, especially since it came so suddenly, without warning. A freak accident. You have every right to rail at God. He loves you and holds no grudges; stands ready to wipe away your tears.”

Yesterday at the funeral home, when everyone was saying how peaceful Gina looked, how natural, “as if she were sleeping”, he had lost it. Yes, the mortician and her staff had been skillful. The makeup was delicate, the hair casual. But it wasn’t Gina. He had seen Gina in sleep more than anyone else, but even in sleep there was a sense of life, of warmth, about her that was not in the satin-lined casket on display in the main parlor.

Suddenly, it became too much. “She’s not sleeping! She’s dead and gone and nothing will ever be the same,” Randy screamed and stormed out of the room and down the street.

Five minutes later, Randy was sitting on a park bench, sobbing his guts out on Paul’s shoulder, neither man caring what any passerby might think. Once again, Paul told him that he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to do. Paul would call CJ and tell her to tell the others that Randy wouldn’t be back. If Randy didn’t want to be there when they closed and sealed the casket(“God forgive me, Gina, forgive me, I don’t think I could take it”), then the boys could handle it. In fact, Paul could go back and he and Mitch take care of it. After all, the boys had lost their mother. They too were grieving. Not to worry; he and Mitch, CJ and Allison would take care of everything.

“ _I wish I could go back, just for a minute, like in ‘Ghost’, and hold him,” Gina Cregg told Danny Concannon. “I never got a chance to tell him good-bye. At least we made love that morning before the accident. At least we didn’t have a fight.”_

_Gina had spent the last two earth-time days reuniting with her family members and her pets that had died before her. Now she was renewing friendships with Randy’s father and Danny, and with Abbey Bartlet. Danny had introduced her to his sons and to the little girl that had lived all too briefly in CJ’s womb. Gina had also made the acquaintance of Alicia, Brianna, Jem, Hugh, Helen Santos, and, of course, Randy's mother._

_Gina missed her family, her horse, and most of all her husband, but heaven seemed to be a pretty nice place. In fact, They said something about some vineyards over by Venus that needed a professional’s touch._

As Randy saddled his horse, the creature whinnied softly into Randy’s hand, then looked over at the next stall.

“Yes, Sienna, I’m hurting; and you’re right, Eli is hurting too. We’ll take him with us.”

Randy walked to Gina’s horse, draped his arms around Eli's neck, and stood there for a few minutes, the two of them mourning the woman they both loved. He put a lead around the gelding’s neck; mounting his own horse, the three of them took off for the vineyards.

Randy had been a good tailback in high school, but not good enough for Ohio State. Miami of Ohio had offered him a free ride, but it was too close to Dayton. So Randy looked at the other schools that had offered him athletic scholarships and chose UC Davis.

By his junior year, Randy knew that although many NFL players, even Hall of Famers, had come out of Division I-AA schools, he was not destined to be one of them. However, he was getting an excellent education and had a good shot at Academic all-American status and a graduate fellowship. He was ahead of schedule on his credits for his biological engineering degree, but he needed another three credits for his general elective requirement; he decided on _Introduction to Winemaking_.

It didn’t take long for Randy to realize that although the girl who sat in front of him, the one with the flashing dark eyes and brilliant black hair, was only a freshman, she knew almost as much about the subject as the professor. It didn’t take long for Randy to determine that he wanted to ask her out. It took only one evening for Randy to find out that Gina belonged to one of the oldest wine-making families in Napa, that she did indeed know more than the teacher, but that the class was required for a degree in viticulture and enology.

It took the rest of the academic year for Randy to seduce Gina into his bed. By the following December, when Randy did indeed win an NCAA graduate scholarship, he was ready to ask Gina’s father for her hand, ready to get his master’s in viticulture, and to spend the rest of his days with her wonderful extended family in the hills and valleys of Napa, making wine and making babies with the love of his life.

When CJ came out to Berkeley, Gina became her older sister, giving CJ what stepmothers had been unwilling or unable to give – the wise counsel, the total support of another woman. When Randy worried about his reaction to the presence of Paul in CJ’s life, Gina scolded him in “half fun and full earnest”, telling him that his feelings were because Paul was the man who had deflowered his little sister and not because of Paul’s race. (“Rocky felt the same way about you.”) Gina and her family welcomed CJ and Paul into their midst and when the two of them broke up, Gina was there to comfort, console, and encourage her sister-in-law, telling her that life would continue, would get better.

Through the years, as CJ advanced in her career, Gina was always there for her sister-in-law, especially as CJ dealt with the men who came in and out of her life. There was one time, when CJ was working with Emily’s List, when Gina seemed particularly pensive and Randy had asked her if there was anything he needed to know. Gina just smiled and when Randy pushed again, told him, “You have to trust me. If it gets to that point, you know I won’t keep a secret from you, even if your sister asks me to do so.” Gina and her mother knew from the beginning, watching the briefings, that Danny Concannon was in love with CJ and that CJ felt the same way “although she doesn’t really know it yet”. And four years before the fact, Aunt Sophia predicted the eventual wedding that the family had so joyously attended four months after CJ left the White House. CJ had begged her sister-in-law to be her matron of honor, but Gina refused. Her ebony hair had just gone completely white, within the space of two weeks, and Gina was uncharacteristically unconfident about the change in appearance. (It took almost three months of gentle chiding and encouragement from Randy – plus a strategic treatment at the salon that gave the white hair a brilliant glow – before Gina realized that she was still a beauty.)

As soon as CJ called with the God-awful news about Danny, Gina had moved heaven and earth to be with them in Santa Monica as such as possible. When the end came, Gina made all the arrangements for the funeral Mass, working with the priests and coordinating the security details for a president, a governor, two former presidents, and Lord knows how many other powerful people as if she had been doing it all her life. Seven months later, when CJ and Paul came to Napa to talk about their plans, or lack thereof, to build a life together, Gina was the first to assure them that they should have no worries about their future. So what if CJ didn’t want to return to “Road to a Better World”? So what if Paul was leaving a church in DC with no other assignment in his pocket?

“We’ve plenty of room here on the farm for the four of you. There’s a cottage with two bedrooms standing empty and we can expand it if you need more room. We can always put you to work in the vineyards, or the cellars. And of course, you’re getting married here. It’s the perfect place for an autumn wedding.”

And once again, Gina dealt with church and governmental bureaucracies and dignitaries, getting permission to use the old chapel for the wedding, working with Governor Seaborn and former President Bartlet. And once again, Gina demurred when asked to stand up for her sister-in-law. ("It's my turn to be mother of the bride, as it were. Ask Donna, or better yet, ask Deborah; it will help you bind with your new daughter. And believe me, I know from binding with new grown-up daughters."

As their five sons grew into manhood, Gina welcomed the four young women who became their daughters into the family, and rejoiced as the grandchildren came along(“Thank God there’s a mix of girls and boys; I love my boys but I missed buying stuff for little girls. And thank God I’m young enough to enjoy them.”) She also took tremendous pride when Keith told them he had a vocation to the priesthood.

And just about every night (and sometimes, in the middle of the day, out in the vineyards) she gave him her body (and took from his) as joyously as she had that first night so long ago in Davis.

Randy and the horses reached his destination – the vineyard that Gina had always personally overseen from cultivation through harvest, pressing, fermentation, and bottling. It was the vineyard of the winery’s sacramental wine.

There was no requirement that sacramental wine come from a particular plot of earth, only that the wine be made from _vitis vinifera_ grapes, that the alcoholic content not exceed twenty percent, and that there be no artificial ingredients. Only yeast and maybe a little bit of brandy as a preservative may be added. However, Gina wanted to have complete control of the product, wanted to ensure that nothing would taint the wine dedicated to worship.

Gina took pride in the wines she produced for use at Mass. There were several varieties, varying in color and sweetness. She produced a sweeter, white wine especially for children making their First Communion, so as to not upset their little palates and to not cause any permanent damage to the little girls’ white dresses. (Many knowledgeable brides also used the product at their nuptial masses.) She also produced a very low-alcohol wine for priests who were recovering alcoholics. Her wines were always in demand and had she been willing to expand the acreage and to give up some of the oversight, the winery could easily have sold the increased production.

Given the demographics of their section of California, they did not often run into fundamental Christians, but when the occasion arose, Gina was ready, willing, and able to defend the use of wine, both in religious rites and in responsible personal consumption.

“God does not make junk,” she would quote a long-time Jesuit friend. “Wine is natural; it is a product of the yeast that naturally grows on the skin of the grapes. When you press grapes for their juice, you have to do something artificial – heat, cold, chemicals – to keep the juice from becoming wine. From the beginning of history, the human race was worshipped God, however He or She was perceived, with wine.”

Ana, a friend of theirs, had once told them, in a religious discussion group, that she took a deep comfort in knowing that, at every hour of the day, somewhere on earth, a priest was offering Mass for the entire Body of Christ, saying the words that turned bread and wine into Body and Blood. Gina later told him that what gave **her** comfort was that, before that act, those priests were reciting the Offertory blessing:

“Blessed are you, Lord God of all creation. Through your goodness we have this wine to offer. Fruit of the vine and work of human hands, it will become our spiritual drink.”

It bothered her that often, on Sunday, the hymn would overshadow the words; it bothered her that often the priest would say them to himself and not out loud for the rest of the congregation to respond (“Blessed be God forever.”)

Randy got down from his horse and pulled the pruning knife from its case on his belt. Very carefully, he began to cut from the vines of the field. He made sure he did not take too much from any one vine, leaving enough for the year’s crop, but also ensuring that his cuttings did contain bunches of still small grapes. He draped the long trailing pieces over Sienna’s and Eli’s necks.

Later this morning, when his beloved wife’s body lay in its metal case in church, and then even later, when it was placed in the ground in the family plot by the old chapel, there would be plenty of flowers – from their sons, from Paul and CJ, from Mitch and Allison, from Hogan and her husband, from Palmer and Nelson, from all their relatives and friends.

But there would be no floral tribute from “Your eternally loving husband”. Instead, Gina’s coffin would be covered with the fruit and the vines she had tended all her life, the vines that had brought them together so long ago it seemed like only yesterday.


End file.
